Who Are You?
by Pinkqueen
Summary: Season 1 AU set post-Hat Trick; Jefferson's head trauma has seemingly convinced him to live the life the curse provided for him, a rich widower who made his money in the millinery business. He returns to his hat shop in town, but he can't run it alone. Soon, girl named Carol Parker shows up, asking for a job. Little does she know that was the best thing she could have done for him.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yay! Chapter One! Time to embark on a new adventure! Exclamation point! In all honesty, though, I am super-pumped for this story. I've put a lot of work into it.**

**Like, a **_**lot**_**.**

**Disclaimer: The only things I own are the plot and Carol. (Who's Carol, says you? _Wait and see_)**

**Furthermore, this story has nothing to do with **_**Once Upon a Time in Wonderland**_**. I've been working on this story since before **_**OUATIW**_** was even a twinkle in Adam and Eddy's eyes. (Probably. Maybe.) Any parallels, connections, or similar plot lines, while extremely unlikely, are coincidental and unintentional.**

* * *

_Chapter 1_

"_Once, I rose above the noise and confusion_

_Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion_

_I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high_

_Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man_

_Though my mind could think I still was a madman"_

/-*-*-*-\

The man's head made a sickening crack as it slammed against the wall, instantly knocking him out. As his drooping body slid down the wall, his outlandish top hat rolled off his head and onto the floor in front of her feet. Emma bent down and picked it up, looking over at the man who should _so_ be in jail right now. Kidnapping, assaulting a police officer, stalking, she could go on. She walked over to him, retrieving her gun from his limp hand and checking his pulse, careful to avoid touching the angry red scar running around his neck. It was almost as if...

_Off with his head._

She shook off the thought and stood. His pulse was slow, but present. _For now,_ she thought bitterly.

"Are you okay?"

Mary Margret's concerned voice brought her out of her thoughts. Emma turned to her, taking in the sight of her timid, soft-spoken roommate hunched over, breathing heavily and still clutching the croquet mallet she used to whack the lunatic over the head before karate-kicking him into the wall. A few feet to the left and he would've been out the window. "Yeah," she replied, looking her over, "you?"

"Yeah," she panted, letting the mallet fall to the carpet. "Is he...?" she gestured over to the man on the floor.

"He's alive. Unconscious, though. Three pretty mean hits on the head in less than an hour, plus I almost ran him over earlier. It's a wonder he's not dead. And by the way, have you been taking kickboxing and not telling me about it?"

Mary Margret looked away, genuinely confused. "I have no idea where that came from. Who is he?"

"A _very_ lonely man," she replied tersely. _An understatement if I ever heard one_, she thought.

While Emma replaced the safety on her gun and slid it into her back pocket, Mary Margret had taken a few steps towards the madman against the wall. "Shouldn't we get him some help?" she asked, concern etched onto her face.

Emma sighed, "I think he needs more 'help' than we could offer. What we should _get_ is back to the station before he wakes up." The arraignment was in a few hours, according to her watch, but she knew Regina would get there early to soak in the sight of Mary Margret behind bars.

"We can't just leave him here," she said, turning to Emma, "He could be really hurt."

"Oh, I think his head was messed up enough before we showed up," the sheriff shrugged, only half-joking. "What's a little concussion gonna do?"

Mary Margret shot her a look that brooked no arguments. "Emma. I know what he did was-"

"Insane?" Emma finished with a glare right back.

"I was going to say wrong," said Mary Margret, annoyed. "But he's still a human being."

Emma sighed. She had a valid point. "Fine," she conceded. "But _you're_ gonna carry him out to the car."

Later that day, as she sat outside the elementary school, story book in hand, Emma began to think. About the man from earlier and the striking resemblance he held to the man known as the Mad Hatter depicted in the book. The story he had told her matched the one in the book as well, down to the phrase he murmured repeatedly while she was making his hat. _Get it to work. _She had used her superpower on him when he was telling his story, and he was telling the truth, or at least what he believed to be true. As she sat and thought, the last straggling students making their way through the school doors, the seed of possibility that her son's adamant belief in the curse had planted in her mind grew just a little bit more.

Meanwhile, across town, a clumsy hospital orderly was assigned to move non-essential patient files out of a cluttered file cabinet and into the new archive system. Caffeine running through her system, the orderly believed she could carry the enormous stack in one trip. The resulting stack of files was so high that it obstructed her line of vision and if she wasn't careful to hold them all in, they would fall out of her arms. Which would be tolerable, she reasoned, if she just moved quickly. That was how she found herself speed-walking to the complete other side of the hospital, calling out frantically for everyone to get out of the way, I've got my hands full, can you get that door for me? She ran into something, or rather someone, and she nearly lost them all. Muttering out a rushed apology, she hurried on her way, ignoring the man she ran into calling after her. He held the dropped file in his outstretched hand, watching the young orderly walk away. He glanced at the name on the tab: PARKER, CAROL. Might as well return it, he reasoned, tucking his lucky umbrella into the crook of his elbow. He opened it, looking for her doctor and ward, and wound up accidentally reading more than what he was looking for. _Oh my_.

He needed to find Dr. Whale.

Now.

* * *

Emma watched from the corner of the room as his eyes cracked open before promptly slamming shut again. Jefferson groaned and attempted to bring his hand up to cover his eyes, only to find it handcuffed to the hospital bed. She could see the wheels turning in his head as he slowly remembered how he got in this situation. He muttered a curse under his breath and tried opening his eyes again while sitting up as best he could. When he saw her, he nodded slightly before leaning back against the pillow. "Sheriff," he greeted softly.

"Jefferson," she replied. "How's the head?"

He smirked and raised his un-cuffed hand to rub his forehead. "A bit shaken up," he retorted, "no thanks to you and, uh, _Spot_."

Emma smirked back and replied sardonically, "Actually, Spot's the one who wanted to bring you to the hospital. The doctor says you have a mild concussion. They're gonna put you on medicine, but the best thing for you to do is to rest. So no more kidnapping until you're healed."

The smile faded from his face, and he actually looked remorseful. "About that," he sighed, resigned. "I really am sorry. I cooked up this delusion and I dragged you and Mar- _Spot_ into it. I know now, there is no curse. That Paige girl is not my daughter. And I am most certainly not the Mad Hatter."

She listened cautiously, a suspicious eyebrow rising higher on her forehead with every word. Everything about him screamed that he was telling the truth, but just a few hours ago, this was the man whose belief in the curse was so unassailable he was willing to kill her and Mary Margret over it. "Is that so?" Jefferson nodded slowly, so as not to jostle his head too much. "You'll forgive me if I don't believe you just yet." He shrugged guiltily, accepting. "Actions speak louder than words, buddy. For Spot's sake, I'm going to pretend that last night never happened. For _your _sake, I better see you acting like a normal human being from time to time. And if I hear even the slightest whisper that you're bothering that little girl, I will ship your ass off to jail faster than you can say 'Wonderland'. We clear?"

"Crystal," he smiled.

On that note, she turned and left, leaving the (apparently) _ex_-maniac behind. On her way through the lobby, she swerved to avoid an old woman in a wheelchair and ran smack into her least favorite person. Regina inhaled sharply as some of the coffee she was carrying sloshed onto her blouse. The mayor looked up at her sharply, and if looks could kill, Emma suspected that the hospital staff would be cleaning her blood off the walls. "I suggest that you watch where you're walking, Sheriff," she snapped.

Emma raised an eyebrow in response. "Can I help you with something, Madame Mayor?"

"I understand that a Mr. Jefferson Andrews has been admitted," the mayor replied, all business. "Something about a concussion?"

"Let me guess. You're _his_ emergency contact, too?"

Regina smirked triumphantly. "So it would seem."

_Naturally._ "And may I ask why?"

"Jefferson has done some work for me in the past and his late wife and I spent some time together." She sighed, clearly annoyed with this line of questioning. "So, you're the one who found him?"

Emma nodded, "Lying on the side of Route 6." _Not technically a lie_.

Crossing her arms and scowling, the mayor asked, "And what were you doing in the middle of the woods so early, Miss Swan?"

"Looking for evidence relating to the murder of Kathryn Nolan," the sheriff scowled back, "_Mayor Mills_."

"What evidence?" Regina hissed, "You have Mary Margaret in custody." Emma couldn't help but notice the mayor seemed a little peeved by that last fact.

"Oh, I don't know," shrugged Emma, "evidence like the_ body_?"

Regina's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "So Miss Blanchard told you where Kathryn's body is?"

The sheriff narrowed her eyes. "No. But Kathryn's heart was found in the woods; it stands to reason the rest of her is somewhere in there, too. I was on my way to go search when I saw him on the side of the road. I stopped, got out, checked his pulse and brought him straight here."

"A likely story, Miss Swan," Regina drawled, smiling tightly, "but a body seems rather useless when you already have your killer."

"Maybe it's useless in regards to the case, but I just thought that her husband and friends, _like you_, would want more than just a heart to bury." Emma smiled sarcastically. "My mistake."

Regina frowned, defeated, and set off towards Jefferson's room. Emma watched her retreating form with a Cheshire grin before doing an about-face and strolling out the front doors.

* * *

_Light_, she thought, blinking as she emerged from the hospital's automatic doors, _real, actual sunlight. _Sadly, she had grown used to the small, frosted glass window in her cell. The horrible, _horrible_ cell under the hospital that she had been in ever since she could remember.

Every day, it was the same. Wake up at six-thirty on the dot. Eat the disgusting breakfast they gave her. Dry toast, milk on the verge of spoiling, and a small bowl of oatmeal that looked as if it would come to life and crawl away. Be escorted from her cell to the female shower room, shiver under the freezing water beside several other women, and then be escorted back to her cell. Then wait until noon, when they would give her a soggy ham and cheese sandwich. Wait until seven in the evening when they would give her overcooked chicken cut into bite-sized pieces and a wilted salad. Lie on her cot, huddled under her thin blanket and slowly sink into a dreamless sleep. That was her life, on repeat every day. But today, that changed.

_Today_, Carol thought with a smile, _I'm free_.

When her cell door opened at eleven that morning, she thought she was being treated to an early lunch. Instead, Dr. Whale was standing in the hall with a box with her name on it under his arm. He was accompanied by another man that she didn't know but decided she liked because of his easy demeanor and adorkable sweater-vest-and-glasses combo. The man smiled at her, a real, genuine smile, something she hadn't seen in ages. "Good morning, Miss Parker," he said. "My name is Dr. Hopper. How are you feeling?"

She suppressed the urge to sigh at his choice of a conversation starter. For as long as she could remember, all anyone ever asked her was how she felt. The worst part was that they didn't really care. They just wanted a cookie-cutter answer that they could put in their report, so they could see that their so-called treatment was working. "Fine, I suppose," she replied, careful to keep her tone respectful. "What's going on here?"

The two doctors in the hall looked briefly at each other, then looked back at her. "We have good news for you, Carol," Dr. Whale sighed. "It seems there was a mistake in your paperwork." He looked at his colleague with a barely concealed look of annoyance. "You see, some time ago, you were deemed sane and fit to be released, but something wasn't entered into the system correctly. It's a bit complicated, but as far as you're concerned," he stepped forward and unceremoniously shoved the box he was holding into her arms, "you're free to go."

The words echoed in her head. _Sane. Free._ "Free?" Carol whispered, awestruck, a real smile spreading across her face. Her arms wrapped tighter around the cardboard box, threatening to crush it. _Free. _In that moment, it was the most beautiful word in the whole world. She felt like she could say it again and again for days and would never grow tired of the sound. She almost didn't mind the fact that she had been in this wretched place for longer than she was supposed to be.

Dr. Whale rolled his eyes, but Dr. Hopper smiled along with her. "Yes, Carol," he grinned, "free. That box has your personal effects, so try not to damage it." She chuckled lightly and loosened her hold on the box. "There should be a change of clothes in there. We're going to close the door to let you change. When you're finished, just knock and we'll let you back out." On that note, the door closed, but did not lock, she noticed.

For a good long moment, Carol simply stood in place, hugging her box of belongings. Everything was happening so suddenly and it nearly left her head spinning. One minute, she was cursing her pointless existence, the next she was walking on air. _Free_. She erupted into a flurry of movement, eager to leave the drab cell she had reluctantly called home for too long. Setting the box down on her cot, she all but ripped the lid off to reveal its contents. Her eyes drank in the blue jeans and dark green blouse like they were made of precious gems, the black sandals as if they were glass slippers. _Real clothing_. She tore off the flimsy hospital gown and quickly dressed. Once she was sure she looked mildly presentable, she threw the handbag from the bottom of the box over her shoulder and knocked on the door.

It opened immediately, and she was greeted with the sight of the two doctors from before. "Ready to go?" Dr. Hopper smiled. The young woman nodded enthusiastically and took a bold step across the threshold. Dr. Hopper walked down the hall towards the reception desk, using the umbrella he carried as a walking stick, and she trailed closely behind. Some "sign here's" and "initial there's" on release forms and a hearty pat on the back later, she was emerging into a bright Storybrooke afternoon. Fishing a pair of sunglasses out of her bag, she took a deep breath of fresh air. _First order of business,_ she thought, running a hand though her hair, _find out if my apartment's been given away._ She took another calming deep breath. _You can do this._ Smiling to herself, Carol walked away from the hospital, humming absentmindedly as she made her way home.

* * *

Carol settled into a booth in the back corner of Granny's, wanting nothing more than to sink into the vinyl and never come out. On the five minute walk to her apartment building alone, she had received at least twelve cautious glares from people in town. One woman even had the gall to pull her child closer as they passed her on the street, as if she was going to cut off their heads if they got too close. Was she really that big of a deal? The silver lining was that since no one new had come to town since some man on a motorcycle, who was staying at Granny's, her old landlord had no reason to give away her apartment. Mr. Gold was asking for two month's worth of rent in advance for his "trouble", though, so the lining was slimmer than she would've liked.

She had also stopped by her previous place of employment, the Rabbit Hole, but they were less than willing to take her back. And by "less than willing", she was referring to the way the manager practically shoved her out the door. She groaned and leaned her head back onto the back of the booth. At least Gold told her where she could find a new job. He mentioned an soon-to-be-open millinery shop called The Hat Trick run by some rich guy that no one seemed to know anything about, other than he was recovering from a concussion and needed all the help he could get.

"What can I do for-" the approaching waitress who had been looking down at her notepad looked up and noticed Carol for the first time. "Carol?" Red lips curved up into a smile and brown eyes grew wide at the sight of her old friend. Ruby yanked Carol out of the booth by her arm and enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh my god!" she squealed, rocking her back and forth, ignoring Carol's hushed protests. "It's been _forever_! How have you been? Sit. You _have_ to tell me everything!" Ruby all but shoved her now thoroughly embarrassed friend back into her seat and took a seat across from her. "So," Ruby continued, leaning in across the table, "dish."

Carol, head still reeling from her old friend's attack-hug, shifted awkwardly in her seat. "It's nice to see you too, Ruby," she started in an earnest but hushed tone, "but did you have to make such a scene?" Ruby just quirked an eyebrow in response, silently asking 'how long have you known me?' Carol sighed, "Right. But won't Granny be upset that you're not working?"

Ruby groaned, "I couldn't care less what _Granny_ has to say. Besides, if she asks, I'll just say I'm on my lunch break, which it's about time for anyways." She pointed an accusatory finger at her, "Now stop changing the subject! Where have you been?"

_Oh, where to begin?_ Carol wondered. "I, uh," she swallowed nervously, "I was in the hospital."

"What?!" The waitress' eyes widened and raked over the parts of her that she could see, checking for injuries. "Why? What happened?"

Carol temporarily retreated into her thoughts. She thought about the way she was treated both in the hospital and just now on the street. Her former coworkers at the Rabbit Hole, former _friends_, treating her the way they would treat some low-life barfly. "I don't really want to talk about it," she whispered brokenly. "The point is I'm out now, I'm fine, and I'm trying to get my life back together, but it's not going over too well."

"Oh, sweetie!" Ruby looked heartbroken at the downtrodden look on her old friend's face and the dull look in her eyes. "God, I feel like such an ass. Wait right here." She left the booth, teetering on her red stilettos before regaining her balance and rushing to the kitchen. She returned less than a minute later, carrying a glass of iced tea. Setting it down on the table in front of Carol, she sat back down into the booth across from her. "I remembered that you hardly drink anything but tea. I put in an order for some burgers and fries, and I told Lucy to step on it, so they should be out soon."

The blonde smiled gratefully and took a drink of her tea. "What would I do without you, Ruby?"

Ruby beamed and shrugged her shoulders, "Luckily you'll never have to find out."

As Carol sat drinking her tea and catching up on the latest news, she felt a small flame of hope spring to life somewhere deep inside. Perhaps things were looking up, after all.

* * *

**Song is "Carry On Wayward Son" by Kansas ****because I like it and it basically works here, right? Of course it does.**

**Why am I answering my own questions? Because I feel like it. If it annoys you, you can ask some of your own in the form of a Review. (oh the cleverness of me)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hm, tough crowd. That's okay though, it's only just beginning.**

**I apologize in advance. I don't really know much about concussions. As far as I'm concerned, Concussion + Shock + Magic = Bad. **

**Whatever. This is an AU, I can do what I want.**

**I'm going to try and publish every Tuesday, but I'd also like to have a 2-chapter buffer before I publish a new one. Which means that if it's Wednesday, and a new chapter hasn't been posted, I was too busy being a lazy bum to write. (Or I forgot, like I almost did today :/ Oops)**

**And again, I do not own OUAT, OUATIW, or Alice in Wonderland.**

* * *

_Chapter 2_

"_We were lovers in a past life,_

_I can see it in your green eyes,_

_Maybe you were one of my wives,_

_In the long lost tribe._

_..._

_But I, I keep on falling for you,_

_Time after time, time after time._

_I'll make you mine, time after time, _

_Time after time."_

/-*-*-*-\

_28 years ago, Wonderland_

_Fucking hats_.

Jefferson pitched a grey carriage hat with a large green plume across the room, causing a towering stack of other failed hats to topple over, which in turn caused more towers of hats to fall. He roared in frustration and collapsed on the ground. At this rate of failure, he would never see his Grace again.

_A promise which you now have broken_.

_Her_ cruel voice rang in his head, repeating the words he knew to be true. _Promise._ He would not be home in time for tea. _Broken. _His beautiful daughter was never going to see him again. Swiping an angry tear from his cheek, Jefferson snatched up a ream of red fabric and began work on a bowler hat. "_Get_ it to work," he murmured to himself. "Get it to _work_. Get it to work! Get it to-" He abruptly stopped rambling and stared at the small phial at his feet that was decidedly _not_ there a moment ago. Blinking hard, he reached out to touch it and gasped in surprise when he felt cool glass beneath his fingertips. He snatched it up, examining its contents, a luminescent orange liquid. Noticing there was a note attached to the neck, he brought it close to his face to look at it further, looking very much like a curious chimp as he did so. He removed the note and unfolded it until it was a full-sized piece of parchment.

"_Hatter-_

"_Seeing as how you were of such great use to me in the past, I have one final favor to ask of you. Regina is casting a dark curse that will uproot everyone's puny little lives and transport them to a world without magic and happy endings and so on. All over a broken heart. Talk about childish. But I digress. In this new world, the memories of our old lives will be ripped from us and replaced with new ones. This potion will allow you to retain your memories. You'll still be injected with a fake life, but at least you'll know the truth. Time is frozen in this new realm, so none will age. In twenty-eight years time, the Savior will return to break the curse, and the final battle will commence. When she arrives, you are to convince her of her destiny by whatever means necessary. I have seen to it your wife and daughter have received similar potions as well. Whether or not they drink them is another matter entirely. We both know what happened the last time your __darling__ wife drank something from a mysterious bottle. Many thanks, dearie. I imagine I'll be seeing you again soon enough._

"_-Rumpelstiltskin"_

Jefferson read the note with utter disbelief. Then he read it again to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. It wouldn't be the first time. He set the note on the ground. _An interesting proposition, indeed_, he thought. _But is Rumpelstiltskin to be believed?_ _Therein lays the riddle._ It seemed a simple enough task, and in the grand scheme of things, twenty-eight years wasn't _that_ long, especially if time was frozen. Then of course there was the unspoken promise. _I have seen to it your wife and daughter have received similar potions as well._ What he wouldn't give to see his family again. And that there was a living wife to send the potion _to_ only sweetened the pot. But then, nothing from Rumpelstiltskin comes without cost, so why should this be an exception? _Whether or not they drink them is another matter entirely._ There was no guarantee of anything.

He looked at the vial, then at the hundreds of hats stacked around him. Scoffing, he figured he might be better off smashing the damn thing and using the glass to cut his own throat. And it was that dark, yet simple realization that convinced him to drink. After all, he had nothing, and therefore nothing to lose. Jefferson tentatively removed the stopper and deeply inhaled the scent of the potion. It smelled like cherry tarts, custard, pineapple, roast turkey, toffee, and buttered toast all mixed in one. "Bottoms up," he declared to the empty room, and quickly drank the entire bottle. He was pleased to find that like good bourbon, it caused pleasant warmth to spread throughout his entire being.

Seeing as how he didn't immediately keel over and die, nor did he transform into a puppet, he reasoned that Rumpelstiltskin was telling the truth. A manic cackle erupted from deep within his throat and he sprung to his feet. _My darling Grace_. He began to sing a simple tune and danced a waltz with an invisible partner, kicking the ream of red fabric away. _My lovely Alice._ He waltzed over to a hat pile and shoved it over, laughing madly the entire time. _I'm coming home to you at long last._

* * *

Perhaps the most exquisite form of torture in this entire experience was the irony. He has been surrounded by hats in one way or another since the very day he was born, whether it was making them or travelling through them, but Jefferson found that despite it all, he really didn't understand the appeal of hats. You wear it to one event, with one dress or suit, and then it's shoved back in the box and never seen again. Not to mention, in his experience, the wealthy spent quite a sum of money on custom hats of the finest design and materials, only to forget about them after a single use. A waste of money if he's ever seen one. But it pays the bills, so who was he to question it?

These were the things he contemplated as he walked slowly around the shop. The Hat Trick. _What kind of ridiculous name for a store _is_ that anyways?_ He had checked out of the hospital that morning against Dr. Frankenstein's wishes.

(_Why bother learning his cursed name if it was only going to break?_)

Then again he supposed it was _his_ shop. The permits and business license were under his real name, and he recognized several dozen hats in the back room from his time in Wonderland. It was even decorated in a way similar to the mansion he once owned with his wife in the Enchanted Forest. The walls were dark green with white damask accents, like their sitting room. Empty shelves and display tables made of mahogany reminded him of their dining room and library. As he surveyed the break room connected to the main shop, his footsteps against the hardwood floors echoed in a way that made him feel like he was walking down the hallway to the bedroom they shared. These things combined brought his thoughts back to better times. Times when his wife's light laughter and infant daughter's gurgles rang through the air. He could almost smell her perfume wafting throughout the room; feel her soft hair between his fingers. Everything was so... Perfect.

That's why he didn't believe it for a moment.

He had been lying, of course, when Emma had come to talk to him. A few bumps on the head couldn't erase the truth. Although while he was unconscious, and even in his early moments of wakefulness, he could feel the curse trying to rip it away, to force him to give in. He had nearly accepted the oblivion, seeing as how he had failed his task. But then he thought of Grace, his sweet, sweet Grace. If he didn't help the Savior break the curse, then who would? No, the only way they would ever be reunited was to get Emma to believe. There was still time. He hadn't failed yet. In retrospect, perhaps barricading himself in his mansion in the woods, waiting for the Savior to just fall into his hands wasn't the best strategy. If he wanted the curse broken, he needed to try a more hands-on approach.

If you can't beat them, join them.

And besides, he had some enemies in high places in this town. He imagined the Queen wasn't too pleased with him, even though when they had last crossed swords, _she_ came up smelling like roses. There was also the chance she had figured out that Dr. Frankenstein's procedure to bring her lover back to life might have worked if they had actually _tried_. But, he reasoned, she couldn't kill him for it if he didn't know anything about it. So he would pretend. He pretended to be asleep when she came in to visit him. When she woke him up, he pretended to know nothing of the curse or how he received his concussion. As far as the mayor knew, he was walking in the woods, blacked out, and woke up in the hospital. When Dr. Frankenstein told her he needed to rest, she had wished him a speedy recovery with a tight-lipped smile that didn't reach her eyes, and then walked off. Jefferson would have to give that man a gift when this whole thing blew over.

He couldn't help but notice that although the store had been abandoned for twenty-eight years, there wasn't a single speck of dust anywhere. Benefits of living in a timeless realm, he assumed. But what was strange was that when he went into what he presumed to be his office, there was a "Help Wanted" sign on his desk. Jefferson remembered that when he checked out, Frankenstein had told him to rest. _How could I rest at a time like this_, he remembered thinking. _This entire town is at a crossroads. _

He walked to the front of the store and placed the Help Wanted sign in the window. _Might as well_. The entire purpose was to blend in; convince the Savior and the Queen he knew nothing. If he were a normal milliner, he would have an assistant. And he _did_ need to rest. The small amount of cleaning up that he was doing had been surprisingly tiresome. Jefferson sighed; if he was going to open a millinery shop, or even pretend to open one, he supposed it would help to have some hats on display. That meant going back to the stock room and bringing hats up to the main shop floor, then arranging them in the windows and on the display tables and on the shelves. He was getting a headache just thinking about it.

_A promise which you now have broken._

The Queen's voice resonating in his skull, he pushed the pain to the back of his mind. He had promises to keep. Walking towards the back of the store, he didn't see the young woman approaching from the street. She looked at the writing scribbled on her hand, then up to the sign. _Hat Trick Millinery Shop, Main and Seventh. Ask for Jefferson Andrews._ The woman briefly considered turning around and going home. She didn't have any experience in anything other than waitressing; what would she have to offer at a hat shop? As she turned to leave, her eye caught the Help Wanted sign in the window. Strengthening her resolve, Carol opened the door and heard the bell above the door tinkle her arrival. A voice from the back called out that he'd be with her in a moment. Carol shifted awkwardly in place, unsure of what to do with herself. _There's still time_, a voice in her head screeched. _You can leave before he even sees you._ Shaking her head, she cleared the cowardly thought from her mind and took a relaxing breath.

Jefferson had _just _opened the stock room door when he heard the bell. It was probably Rumpelstiltskin, come to collect the rent or some other ridiculous fee. Taking his time, he walked back through the break room and pulled aside the curtain separating it from the shop floor. Instead of an old man with a cane, he was surprised to see a young woman waiting for him. She was facing the door, as if debating if she should leave. Walking over to the checkout counter, he cleared his throat and she turned around.

_No._ His eyes widened and he clutched the counter for support. _It can't be..._

"I'm, uh," he stuttered, maintaining a white-knuckled grip on the counter, "the store isn't- Who are you?"

The woman's forehead creased into a delicate frown, something flickering in her eyes, and she took several tentative steps towards him. "Are you Jefferson Andrews?"

_Oh gods, her voice. It _has _to be._ "I am," he managed. "Who are you?"

"Carol Parker, I'm looking for a job. Are you okay?" she asked concernedly, coming even closer. "You look like you're about to throw up."

He somehow managed a single humorless laugh. _All the subtlety of a dull blade. Just like always._ "A concussion tends to do that for you." She smiled at him, and it lit up her eyes in the most beautiful way. He knew that smile anywhere. There was no longer any doubt in his mind.

His beloved Alice was alive and standing right in front of him.

This woman was his wife.

The world went black for a moment and he felt two arms encircle his waist and help him stand. "Mr. Andrews! Jefferson?" her voice, the voice that had haunted his dreams for the past thirty years, called out to him. His feet regained purchase on the ground as his eyes fluttered open. "Is there somewhere you can sit down?"

Nodding, Jefferson drank in her features like they were the air that a drowning man needed. They were exactly as he remembered them, but with one glaring difference; the formerly ever-present light had vanished from her eyes. "Through the curtain," he murmured, "chairs." Alice -or whatever her name here was- led him back to the break room and helped him into a chair. His eyes fluttered closed again and he heard her footsteps echo in the room.

"Mr. Andrews?" Reopening his eyes, he saw her walking quickly towards him. "I don't know a lot about concussions, but I'm pretty sure you have to stay awake for a while." She came to stand in front of him, worry etched onto her face. "Are you going to be okay? Do I need to take you to the hospital?"

_Bland white walls, the stench of blood, Frankenstein's certain "I told you so"?_ "No, thank you, Miss, uh," he briefly screwed his eyes shut, looking for her curse-name. "I'm sorry, what was it again?"

"That's alright," she smiled. "It's Carol Parker."

_Gods, how I've missed that smile._ "Well, Miss Parker," he smiled back, "you seem to be quite a valuable asset. You mentioned you were looking for a job?" She nodded quickly, a small spark of hope appearing in her eyes. "Well then that settles it. Welcome to the Hat Trick."

Her eyes widened to saucers, and she managed, "B-but you haven't even asked for any references or anything. I've never even _worked_ in a hat shop before! Is-isn't there some-"

"Miss Parker," Jefferson interrupted with a smirk. "Are you trying to talk me out of giving you a job?"

A steady flush made its way onto her cheeks and she smiled shyly. "Not anymore. Thank you very much."

He could feel a full-megawatt grin spread across his face. "It's not a problem," he replied. "If anything, _I_ should be thanking _you_. There's really not much to the job, so you should be fine." He slowly stood up under the careful eye of his new assistant. "I should probably go home and get some rest. Tomorrow, I'll get you a spare key made. Can you start at, let's say, eight tomorrow morning?"

Carol nodded animatedly, "Of course I can, Mr. Andrews," she smiled. "I _cannot_ thank you enough."

"You're very welcome." Jefferson nodded, but there was one niggling, traitorous thought in the back of his mind. _Don't question it. If you question it it'll disappear._ "If you don't mind my asking, Miss Parker, where did you hear that there was a job available here?"

"Mr. Gold told me. He's the landlord for my apartment building. Why?"

"Just curious. Have a nice day." Smiling at him once more, Carol left through the front door, the ringing bell the only sound in the store. Once he heard the door click back into place, Jefferson slammed a fist onto the table, causing it to shake violently. As the noise reverberated through the room, he told himself to calm down. Assess the situation. Good news: Alice was alive and in Storybrooke. Bad news: she was cursed. But not completely, it seemed. Facets of her old personality still shone through the cracks, and he swore he saw recognition in her eyes when she first turned around. All hope was not lost. Just most of it. One thing was sure, though. He needed to have a nice chat with Mr. Gold.

He took a step forward and felt a dizzying wave of nausea wash over him. _Tomorrow, _he thought, clutching his head and the table. _I'll talk to Mr. Gold tomorrow._

_Fucking concussion._

* * *

**And it all circles back around. Ain't it grand?**

**Song is "Past Lives" by Ke$ha. (Don't be fooled, it's really pretty and soft and totally fits this chapter.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Goddamn it. I need to set an alarm or something. **

**So the flashbacks took up wayyy more of this chapter than I expected. But my muse ****_really_**** likes writing Wonderland. There are so many colorful characters and lots of possibility. At this time, Alice is seven and Jefferson is ten.**

* * *

_Chapter 3_

_"Your hair is like meadow grass on the tide_

_And the raindrops on my window_

_And the ice in my drink_

_Baby all I can think of is Alice"_

/-*-*-*-\

He remembered it was half-past brilling, and the Dodo had just delivered a fresh supply of treacle the previous morn. March was debating with him the usefulness of butter in fixing watches, when something over Jefferson's shoulder caught his eye. The hare's eyes grew wide and he shouted, "No room!" This, of course, prompted Jefferson to look over his own shoulder. There was a girl standing there who seemed to be only a few years younger than himself. From the looks of the twigs in her hair, she had just emerged from the surrounding woods. Due to March's outburst, she looked about ready to bolt. Jefferson patted him on the head and turned in his seat to fully face the girl.

"Who are you?"

The girl frowned. Obviously this was not the right question to ask. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?" she pouted, stomping her foot. "I don't know anymore!"

_How peculiar._ "Well, who do you _think_ you are?"

March, oblivious to the change in conversation, interjected, "Do you feel cramped?"

The girl cast a wary glance at the hare, but answered, "Well, when I woke up this morning, I was Alice." She frowned again. "But I'm not so sure anymore."

Dormouse chose that point to wake up, violently shouting, "NO ROOM!" She then proceeded to slump back onto the table, already asleep again.

"Booked solid!" March agreed. "No room here!"

"Nonsense, you two," Jefferson scolded, turning to the table. "There's plenty of room for Miss Alice here." Turning back to her, he smiled, "Can I offer you some tea? Perhaps a finger sandwich? I promise they're not _actually_ made of fingers this time." Behind him, he could hear March pick up his butter debate with a loudly snoring Dormouse.

"I'm afraid not," Alice began, taking a nervous step back. "I really must be getting home now."

"Oh? And where do you live?"

She took another step back. "My mother told me not to tell strangers where I live."

"Your mother is a smart woman." He rose up to stand on his chair. Taking a dramatic bow, he said, "My name is Jefferson Andrews, but some have taken to calling me Hatter. My companions here are called March Hare and Dormouse. Now that we're not strangers anymore," he fell into a seated position and leaned towards her, "tell me, Alice. Where do you live?"

A thoughtful look crossed her small features, as if debating internally. She finally shrugged and sat next to him at the table. "I live in London," she started, "and my father's job paid well, so we're in one of the nice neighborhoods."

"How fascinating," he grinned, "you're an Otherlander. I thought I detected a bit of an accent." Alice smiled slightly, and he poured her a cup of tea. "And what does your father do?"

She took a sip and smiled fondly, "He used to work in antiquities."

"Used to?" asked Jefferson, scooping copious amounts of sugar into his own tea. He offered her some, but she shook her head no.

"Yes," something sad appeared in her eyes. "He's dead now."

He reached out and rested his hand over hers. "I'm sorry to hear that. If it's any solace," he continued, removing it to stir his tea with his pointer finger, "my parents are dead, as well."

Alice looked at him strangely from over the rim of her teacup. "Did you know them well?"

"Oh yes," he nodded casually, "they were very dear to me. Shame, really."

"How are you able to talk about it so easily?"

"Well, it wasn't easy at first, believe you me. In the beginning, I was an absolute mess. But then I came to a very simple realization." Here he took a sip of his tea. "We, as humans, are not tied down to rationality. Sadness inflicted by events like the early, unlawful deaths of your parents can just drift away if you lose the one thing that keeps the wound fresh and painful." When asked what, he grinned and said, "Your mind. You should try it sometime, going mad. It's the easiest thing in the world."

"Well, I'd rather not be mad, so perhaps you could show me a way home?"

Thinking for a moment, he set his tea on the table. "Perhaps. What realm are you from?"

Setting her tea down as well, Alice gave a look askance. "I'm sorry, _realm_? I'm from London."

"Yeah, I got that part," he sighed dramatically. "So I take it this 'London' doesn't have magic?"

She thought for a moment. "I don't think so. I thought magic was just make-believe?"

"_This_ realm is magic." Jefferson leveled her with a very serious look. "Does this place seem _make-believe_ to you?"

"Well," she replied softly, "perhaps a bit."

"It isn't," he emphasized. "Keep thinking like that and you might not make it home in time for supper." He leapt from his seat and landed face-first on the ground.

Quickly standing as well, Alice asked, "Wait, so you're going to help me?"

Jefferson was up on his feet at this point, brushing dirt off of his blue and white checkerboard patterned blazer. "I'll do what I can. Since your realm doesn't have magic, that makes things difficult. We won't be able to take the easy way out, but I might know someone who knows of someone who _might_ have an alternative." He pulled a small stick from his hair and flicked it across the lawn. "Do you remember how you got here?"

"Yes," Alice nodded, "I was walking in the park and I saw a white rabbit with a pocket watch and a coat. I followed him into a patch of trees and I fell down a hole."

"That frumious cheat. March!" he called, causing March to look at him with crazed eyes, "Remind me to make your uncle into a hat."

"Got it!" the jack-rabbit shrieked, holding a cinnamon stick as if it were a quill and using it to write on the sleeping Dormouse's back. "Make uncle into hat!"

"Well, it wasn't really _his_ fault," assured Alice, concern in her tone. "I shouldn't have followed him."

"Yes, it _was_ his fault," Jefferson insisted. "But you're right about one thing; you definitely should _not_ have followed him. He frequents various parks in other worlds, trying to lure children to Wonderland."

Alice screwed her face up, naïvely confused. "Why would he do that?"

"Because," he sighed, "that rabbit works for the Red Queen."

The March Hare screamed, causing several nearby birds to flee. "THE _QUEEN_!?" he shrieked "WHERE!?" He scurried out of his chair and began running around the clearing, screeching loudly and trying to hide behind small patches of mushrooms.

The Dormouse snorted lightly in her sleep and rolled onto a macaroon, which she then snuggled up to her chest like a teddy bear.

Jefferson only sighed, "Not again. March!" He marched over to the nervous hare. "March, the Queen isn't here," he soothed, leading him back to the table. "Calm down. Have some tea."

"Tea," he murmured, taking a sip, "Not here. Calm."

"I'm sorry, but what does, um," Alice looked at March warily, "_she_ want with children?"

After making sure the hare was settled, Jefferson walked back over to her. "Several years ago," he explained, "a child escaped from her executioner with a way to travel between worlds. She's been hunting every realm she has access to for the child ever since."

"That seems a bit extreme."

"Yes, well," he snapped, tense, "she is a very _extreme_ woman." A tortured expression occupied his face before it was quickly replaced by a relaxed grin. "March, Dormouse," he called, causing each to look up at him. "I'm going on a journey. If I'm not home in two day's time, I'm probably dead."

"Feed your head!" Dormouse yawned, lying down on a slice of toast.

March waved a cocktail napkin at him, shouting, "Say what you mean!"

"I'll be sure to do that," he called back. "Now then, shall we?" He offered Alice his arm, which she accepted with a smile, and led them out of the clearing.

* * *

The town was waking up around him as he waited outside the pawn shop for its owner, but his mind was focused on more pressing matters. Jefferson watched idly as the streetlights went off and shop fronts came to life. Mrs. Lucas began her daily walk down to the docks to buy fish while her granddaughter the she-wolf tiredly wrote the specials on the board out front, Princess Ella jogged past him, trying to lose baby weight he imagined, the Evil Queen drove by on her way to City Hall, and, right on cue, Rumpelstiltskin hobbled across the street to his shop, pulling a ring of keys from his pocket. "Can I help you with something, Mr. Andrews?"

"Of course not," Jefferson shrugged. "I've just been standing here for the past twenty minutes for my health." Stepping to the side to let Mr. Gold unlock the door, he followed him in when he did. "I need a key copied." He set the key to his shop on the counter and put his hands in his jacket pockets.

Gold picked up the key, examining it. "A simple enough request," he said, placing the key back on the counter. "And what have I done to deserve such biting sarcasm?"

"I suspect you already know," Jefferson hissed, his hands balling into fists in his pockets.

Either oblivious to his anger or more likely choosing to ignore it, Gold drawled, "That's rather cryptic for this early in the morning. Care to expand?"

"You know," Jefferson snapped, removing his hands from his pockets and placing his elbows on the counter, "you'll never guess who I ran into yesterday." He leaned forward, a scowl forming on his face. "_My dead wife._"

"Well, if you 'ran into her' as you said," Gold replied, unaffected, "then I would assume that she's very much alive."

"You _promised_," growled the hatter. "You said that she wouldn't be affected by the curse, so long as she drank the potion. Then you sent her to me, _knowing_ she was still cursed. Why?"

"I don't know what you're-"

"Drop the act, _Rumple_," he snapped. "We both know the truth."

A tense silence filled the air until Mr. Gold broke it with a light chuckle. "If you insist, Hatter." Gold smiled darkly, looking like more like his fairy-tale counterpart. "It seems that your dear Alice chose not to drink. I figured that the least I could do was to reunite the two of you."

"But she _did_ drink," he insisted. "She recognizes me, but she doesn't know why. You said it would work. It worked for me, why not for her?"

"Yes, well, it _does_ work. But only if you drink the whole thing." When Jefferson looked at him questioningly, he went on, "The potion is only effective if the recipient willingly drinks every last drop. Based on your description, I'd say she drank about two thirds of it."

Jefferson scowled. None of this was making any sense. "If she was willing to drink that much, then why not the rest?"

"Well, perhaps she was interrupted," Gold sighed with a look that said '_how the hell should I know?_'

"Is there anything I can do?" asked Jefferson hopefully.

Gold looked ready to say 'no', but paused, a thoughtful expression taking hold. "You say she remembers you?"

He sighed, dropping his head into his hands. "Barely."

"That might be enough," the pawnbroker replied. "Your relationship is strong enough that you _might_ be able to pull her from the fog."

Jerking upright and groaning lightly when the sudden motion upset his head, Jefferson asked, "I can bring back her memories?"

"I said might. It may not work."

"I'm willing to take that chance," he said eagerly. "What do I do?"

Gold shrugged, "True Love's kiss breaks any curse. Just get her to fall back in love with you."

"Great," he sighed. "That shouldn't be too difficult."

"Well, with that sparkling personality, it should be simple," smirked Gold. "Besides, you've done it before. Surely you can do it again." Jefferson's key in hand, he limped into the back room of his store.

Hearing the key-copying machine fire to life, Jefferson ran a hand over his face. "You say that like it was easy the _first_ time," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

* * *

"Why do we even have to go through these tuggy woods in the first place?" Alice whined, shaking a vine from her foot.

"It's the _Tulgey_ Wood," Jefferson groaned, "and I need to find a friend of mine. He's guarding something of my father's."

Alice pouted, "Why couldn't you just keep it with you?"

"Because it's special, okay? Now, follow me," he snapped in reply, grabbing her hand and dragging her along.

She stopped in her tracks, causing him to jerk back to keep a grip on her hand. "Why do _you_ get to walk in front?"

"Because I'm a boy and you're a girl." He tried to pull her forward, but she yanked her hand out of his.

"That's a stupid reason," she whined. "Where _I'm_ from, gentlemen always let ladies go first."

"Well," he sighed, "I'm older than you."

"That's a stupid reason, too! My older brother holds the door open for me all the time."

Jefferson turned on her, grasping her arm tightly enough to make her cry out in pain. "Well maybe it's because you're _stupid_ enough to come to Wonderland in the first place!" he roared. "This place is _terrible_! It will ruin your life like it ruined mine! I'm risking my head to help you, so shut your mouth, take my hand, and follow me!" He sobered instantly when Alice began to sob violently, tears streaming down her face. "Oh no. Oh, dear. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please stop crying. You can walk in front if you'd like, just please stop crying."

"I can't!" she sobbed, wiping her face with the backs of her hands.

He looked around nervously. "Well, you're gonna have to," he whispered seriously. "So think lovely thoughts or something. Just stop crying."

Alice sniffled, the tears slowing. "What are you talking about, I _have_ to?"

"I'm talking about Moss Women," he replied, handing her his handkerchief. "They live in the Tulgey Wood and they feed off of misery. If they sense any, they appear to you and grant you a wish."

"Well, that doesn't sound so bad," she reasoned, blowing her nose into the piece of fabric. "Can't I just wish myself home, then?"

"It doesn't work that way. They're tricksters. They twist your words so you end up worse off than you already were. They make it so the wish makes you even more miserable, so they can feed more. Then, that misery attracts more Moss Women willing to grant you wishes and further your misery. Now, I'm not telling you this to scare you, but if you want to get home, I'm gonna need you to stop crying."

Alice smiled slightly and gave him his handkerchief back. "You seem to know an awful lot about this place"

"Yeah, well," he sighed, folding it and shoving it back into his jacket pocket. "I've only been living here my whole life. Feeling better?" When Alice nodded yes, he smiled, "Great. Let's keep going."

"My dear girl, are you unhappy?"

They turned, and perched on a low-hanging branch was a small creature, no bigger than a crow. She looked like a poorly built bird's nest in the vague shape of a small woman made entirely of twigs and small sticks covered in thick green moss. Two shining yellow eyes peered out from between leaves and a pair of pink lips was visible in the mass of foliage. Jefferson took a wary step back and attempted to pull Alice with him, but she wouldn't budge. She was looking at the moss woman with shining, curious eyes.

"Well, perhaps-"

"No," Jefferson interrupted, "she's not. We're just going for a stroll." He glared at Alice, hoping she would take the hint, but she glared back at him with just as much stubbornness.

The yellow eyes narrowed maliciously. "_Jefferson_. You of all people should know that people don't just 'go for strolls' in the Tulgey Wood." She smiled warmly, shifting her gaze to Alice. "You are looking for something. I can grant your wish, just name it."

"Well, since you offered so kindly-"

Jefferson snatched Alice's arm and pulled her to him. "Are you mad?" he whispered harshly. "What did I say? We're leaving."

She yanked her arm from his grasp. "Like _you're_ one to talk about madness!" she snapped, glaring at him. "She seems lovely, and not at all tricky."

"Tricksters _never_ seem tricky," he groaned. "That's how they lure you in!"

"You both seem quite distressed," the moss woman interjected with a warm and musical voice. "I can help you. I can grant you whatever you want, so long as you name it."

"No!" insisted Jefferson before Alice could say otherwise. "We're fine. Good day to you, Moss Woman." He turned and walked away, dragging Alice along with him.

The moss woman's eyes suddenly turned a fiery, angry red. "You're not going anywhere." She flicked her wrist and a wall of thorny plants rose up around them, blocking their way. Thick vines emerged from the ground, slowly winding their way up the children's legs, holding them in place and turning them so they faced the Moss Woman.

Jefferson retrieved a stone flask from inside his jacket and quickly uncapped it. "Get ready to run!" He threw the liquid from the flask onto the rapidly approaching creature and she screeched shrilly enough to break glass, causing them to cover their ears. The plants quickly retreated back into the ground and thick green smoke began to pour off of the moss woman. The children ran in the opposite direction and didn't stop until they could no longer hear her screams. As they hunched over, catching their breath, Jefferson panted out, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I think so," panted Alice. "What was that you threw on her?"

Examining his now empty flask, Jefferson stood upright. "Water from the marsh of a boggart," he explained. "Effective against will-o'-the-wisps, lesser goblins, and moss women. Not easy to come by, especially for me."

"Why _especially_ you?"

"When an adult wanders into a marsh, the boggart will usually settle for stealing their things and pulling on their ears and the like. But if a child gets lost in the marsh..." He met her eyes, his mouth set into a grim line. "Well, let's just say that they won't be home for tea." Alice swallowed nervously, new respect forming for the boy next to her. "We should keep moving. A screech like that is bound to attract more of them, and I'm all out of marsh water."

"After you," she said, holding out her hand for him to take. Jefferson looked down at her, smiling, and took her hand.

* * *

**There isn't a lot of lore on moss women (none, actually), but in the source I got them from, they were actually very helpful and nice and they don't like to see people unhappy. **

**But, hey, where's the fun in that?**

**Also, I'm aware the Dormouse never actually says, "Feed your head", but this is my story. It's important.**

**Song is "Alice" by Tom Waits.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Ugh ugh ugh I ****_hate_**** being sick. And I'm on vacation, which makes it worse. But you didn't come to hear about little ol' me, you came for Wonderland, yes? Chapter five is basically written but it could use some tweaking. I'm kinda living on the edge here because ****_I'm literally making this up as I go along. I have no plan whatsoever and it's kinda starting to worry me because I'm running out of buffer chapters. Send help immediately._**

**Ahem. So, chapter four.**

**(By the way, I found out that sticks of cinnamon are sometimes referred to as quills, so that bit with March Hare in the last chapter actually, unintentionally, made sense. Drat.)**

**(Speaking of March, is anyone feeling hiatus fever sink in yet? I think I've gone into shock.)**

* * *

_Chapter 4_

_"I've got a tight grip on reality_

_But I can't let go of what's in front of me here._

_I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up._

_Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream._

_...And I'm on my way to believing"_

/-*-*-*-\

Carol's eyes shot open and she panted heavily. A thin sheen of sweat covered her body, and when she sat up in bed, she found the sheets were tangled around her legs. _What a strange dream_, she thought, untangling them. She took a deep breath and turned on the lamp on her bedside table. It wasn't the first dream she'd had about Wonderland or the young boy with sad eyes, but it was the first one she'd had in ages. And none of the others had ever felt so real.

She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. _6:36_. Swinging her legs out of bed, she groaned and ran a hand over her face. She obviously wasn't going to get any more sleep, and even if she tried, there was a chance that she'd oversleep and be late for her first day of work in years. Standing and walking over to her closet, she figured she should take a shower and wash away the sweat and stress caused by the dream. She picked one of the few dresses that hadn't been partially consumed by moths in her absence off the rack and laid it on her bed. Fragments of the dream echoed in her mind.

_(it's the tulgey wood)_

_(it will ruin your life like it ruined mine)_

_(they're tricksters)_

_(jefferson you of all people should know)_

_(are you alright)_

_Jefferson._ The name stopped her in her tracks. _Isn't that..._ She shook her head, dismissing the errant thought. _Coincidence._ She was probably thinking about work before she went to sleep last night, and her brain took his name and weaved it into her dream. Yes. That was all it was. Sheer coincidence.

* * *

"If you don't mind my asking," asked Alice, picking a flower to add to the crown she was making, "why do you think this place is so terrible? It seems rather lovely to me." She yelped in surprise when the flower began screaming in pain at being plucked from its home and she promptly threw it to the ground.

Jefferson chuckled and stopped momentarily to pick a flower without a face. "You've got a funny definition of lovely," he replied, handing her the flower. "And I do mind you asking, so I won't be answering that."

Weaving the proffered flower into the crown, completing it, Alice smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. It's just that everything is so much more colorful than where I live." She examined the flower crown and, deeming it worthy, delicately placed it on top of her head.

Spotting a mushroom the size of a small dog, he grabbed her hand and continued down the path. "Keep walking, Queen Alice," he smirked, "we're nearly there."

Alice sped up to keep pace with him. "Nearly where?" she asked, her free hand going up to hold her crown in place. "We've been walking in circles for hours."

"It's hardly been one hour. That's just how the Tulgey Wood works. It tricks you into thinking you're lost."

"Why?"

Smiling down at her, Jefferson commented, "You ask a lot of questions."

Alice shrugged, "You seem to have all the answers."

"Well, not to that one. Sometimes things just are what they are." They walked on in comfortable silence for a time, each occupied by their own thoughts. Soon, they entered an area in the Wood where thick patches of smoke drifted lazily by, and the path was lined with mushrooms that got progressively larger as they continued on the path. When the mushrooms were taller than the children, Jefferson stopped and turned to Alice, saying, "We're here. Now, Absolem is one of the oldest and wisest creatures in Wonderland. Try to show some respect. Understand?" Alice nodded, and they walked hand-in-hand through a large cloud of the smoke, making her cough. When they emerged, a particularly large mushroom loomed in front of them, and lying on it was a great blue caterpillar, puffing away on a hookah and blowing the smoke into rings and letters.

"Oh, dear!" Alice sighed petulantly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Not you again!"

The caterpillar lazily turned its head to examine her and narrowed its eyes, seemingly as happy about their reunion as she. "Keep your temper, little girl," he breathed accusatorily, the action causing a stream of olid smoke to hit her squarely in the face. She coughed once or twice and rapidly waved her hand in front of her nose.

Patting her lightly on the back, Jefferson leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Alice, this is Absolem," he hissed. "I told you about him, _remember_?" He pulled back and looked at her in a way that conveyed that she was embarrassing him.

Chastised, she stepped forward and curtseyed deeply. "How do you do, Absolem, sir?"

"Hatter," the caterpillar drawled, ignoring Alice, "why have you brought an Otherlander to me?"

Annoyed at being snubbed, Alice frowned and took a step back, pouting. Jefferson sighed, rolling his eyes when he was sure she couldn't see. "I'm trying to get her home," he calmly answered the insect. "I need my father's hat." He could feel Alice's glare on the back of his head, and while Absolem took another deep pull off his hookah, he whirled around to face her.

She was full-on scowling at this point and glaring at him in a way that he didn't believe possible for a seven-year old girl. "We came all this way for a _hat?"_ she hissed, keeping her voice down so as not to disturb Absolem. "What good is that going to do?"

"I told you," he whispered back, exasperated, "it's special." He spun back around and saw that the caterpillar had raised himself up to his full height, which wasn't much, considering. Nevertheless, he was an imposing figure.

Absolem stared at the pair for several moments before huffing, "You, girl." In the process, the smoke that was in his mouth puffed out in the shape of a 'U'.

Alice, thinking this an impressive trick, raised her eyebrows and took a small step forward. "Yes, your caterpillar-ness?" she asked, uncertain how to respectfully address a talking caterpillar.

Thankfully, he thought her attempt amusing. "How charming," he chuckled, taking another hit of hookah. "What realm are you from?" He blew out the smoke into a question mark that drifted off to his right.

She looked briefly back at Jefferson, who smiled encouragingly, before replying, "I'm not entirely sure, sir."

"I see." Absolem directed his attention to the boy behind her. "What makes you think the hat will even work, Hatter? What if her realm is without magic?"

Jefferson rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. "Well, you see," he explained meekly, "we were hoping that there was another way."

"Such as?"

"I wasn't really sure." He snapped his fingers as if a sudden realization hit him. "Perhaps a magic bean or something of the sort?"

Absolem inhaled again and exhaled smoke in the shape of an 'X'. "Magic beans are allochthonous to these parts, and even so, they are in short supply." He languidly turned his gaze to Alice. "Girl. What can you tell me about this world of yours?"

Eager to impress, she stepped forward again. "Well, it's rather dull. It's always overcast, and there are rumors of terrible monsters lurking about in the darkness. Not to mention, there's not a drop of color anywhere. You don't really notice it when you're there, but now that I'm here, it's much more apparent-" She erupted into a fit of coughing due to Absolem blowing more smoke in her face.

"My, you're fond of your own voice, aren't you?" he drawled, transferring the mouthpiece to another one of his many hands. Or were they feet? Absolem stretched his upper half around and retrieved a leather hat carrier from behind his mushroom. Taking another drag off the hookah, he tossed the carrier and it landed at Jefferson's feet. "Take the hat."

Kneeling, Jefferson undid the clasps of the carrier and produced a large, dark green top hat. He flipped it onto his head in a practiced move, his head just large enough to keep it from sliding down over his face, and snapped the carrier lid shut. "I thought it wouldn't work with a magic-less realm?"

"I have heard whispers of the world she comes from," the insect replied languidly. "They have magic, but they refer to it by another name. The hat will work"

Jefferson nodded sharply and picked up the carrier. "Thank you, Absolem."

"Feed your head," the caterpillar exhaled in reply. As the children turned and walked away, they could hear him reciting 'How Doth the Little Crocodile' under his breath.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Alice asked once the mushrooms were of normal size again. When asked what, she said, "Feed your head."

"Ah, that," Jefferson sighed, toying with a loose string on his blazer. "It's an old Wonderland tradition amongst friends."

Alice frowned and gently slapped his hand away from the string. "Why don't I believe you?"

"Probably because I'm lying," he replied unremorsefully. "We need to find an open space so we can use the hat without putting anyone else in harm's way."

"It's a _hat_. Don't you just put it on your head?"

Jefferson stopped walking, and she stopped as well. "For the last time," he sighed, annoyed, "this is not an ordinary hat. It can take you home. All you have to do is-"

"What?" she interrupted, putting her hands on her hips. "Pull a rabbit out of it?"

He only stared at her, not amused. "Trust me, Alice. All you have to do is trust me." He walked on and past her, expecting her to follow. After a moment, she did, but she didn't speak for a while longer.

"Well, I just had a conversation with a smoking caterpillar," she huffed, smiling shyly, "so I suppose a magical, world-jumping hat isn't _too _far-fetched." He smiled back and held out his hand in a peace offering. Taking it, she continued, "So how does this magical hat of yours work?"

* * *

"Do you want them sorted by color, gender, or size?"

Jefferson hummed thoughtfully from his seat by the counter and asked, "How about gender _and_ color?"

Nodding, Carol paced across the floor. "That's kind of what I was thinking," she said, "but what about unisex hats?"

"That," he sighed, toying with the tan fedora in his hands, "is an excellent question."

They both thought for some time longer, until Carol halted suddenly and turned to him, inspired. "What if we put them on a table near the men's side?" she offered animatedly. "Because if women see a hat they like, they may venture over there, but no guy will pick out a hat for himself from the women's section."

"Brilliant. And, speaking as a man, absolutely true."

She beamed at that and he felt like his whole world brightened for an instant. When he had come to open the store that morning, he was pleasantly surprised to see her sitting cross-legged next to the door, nose in a book. Walking up to her, he had briefly wondered how long she had been there. However long it had been, it was long enough that she had made herself quite comfortable in the cold spring morning. Light brown suede boots peeked out from under a very warm-looking black pea coat. A deep purple scarf was wrapped snugly around her slender neck, and when he stopped at her feet and cleared his throat, she looked up at him with surprised eyes. They softened with recognition and she marked her place in the book and closed it. _Just get her to fall back in love with you. _He had offered his hand to help her up, and she took it. In a calculated move, he had pulled her up so she was closer to him than strictly necessary, but she didn't really seem to mind. Her eyes had fluttered briefly and she blushed when his thumb brushed over her knuckles as he let her hand go and took a step back.

Now as she was flitting back and forth between the storage room and the main floor with armfuls of assorted hats, he couldn't help but wonder how he got here. Some random flick of the wrist by the hand of fate and he's back with his wife. (Kind of.) He is knocked out and taken to the hospital where she is. She's released just when he's rejoining society. Something about the whole thing didn't sit right with him, but seeing her now, alive and well, arranging hats on shelves, he almost couldn't bring himself to care. After a while, he brought a small radio out from the back, and several hours passed to the sound of "indie" music, whatever that was. She would make the occasional trip back to the store room for a few hats and bring him the ones that were damaged.

"My God, that's a lot of hats," Carol huffed at around noon, leaning against the checkout counter. "Where on earth did you find the time to make all of these?"

_Ha. Earth._ "I had a lot of spare time and nothing else to do with it."

"_I'll_ say. And they're all so beautiful."

He shrugged, because what else could he do? These hats weren't even his best work, and he could hardly stand to look at them without thinking of where he was when he made them. "It's really not that big of a deal. They're just hats."

She stood up straight and nudged his arm. "You have a real talent, Jefferson," she said, walking around so she was face to face with him. "Who cares if it's _just hats_?"

"I'm glad you feel that way, Miss Parker," he smiled. "Makes me think I picked the right one for the job." She smiled and turned to walk away when he was struck by an idea. "You know," he began tentatively, standing up, "if you'd like you could wear them. Just around town and in the store."

Smiling, she turned back around. "Really?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "What's the point of a hat if it's just going to sit on a shelf? And besides, I need to know if they're worth buying."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know, not broken, comfortable, appealing. That sort of thing."

"Thank you, Mr. Andrews," she smiled. "For everything."

Out of habit, he moved to place his hand on her cheek, but instead ran it through his hair and let it fall to his side. "Come on, then. We've got work to do."

* * *

"So," the young hatter stated, breaking the companionable silence. "Your world is colorless?" They had walked for about twenty minutes, according to his pocket watch. Fortunately, the only other creature they had come across since leaving Absolem was a slithy tove living under a sundial. It tried to drill through Jefferson's foot, but he threw it some lint-covered cheese from his pocket and it ran off. Why he carried cheese in his pocket was something Alice suspected she'd never know.

Nodding, Alice sighed, "Yes. It's horribly drab."

"I should think so. Never seeing a rainbow at the end of a storm, never able to tell what color you're painting your house." He chuckled lightly. "Why, I imagine you could walk around wearing green trousers and a yellow overcoat and never even know how silly you looked!"

A confused frown graced the girl's features. "Your world has color, but you dress like that anyways," she said, gesturing to his blue-and-white checked blazer and burgundy pants, both of which contrasted starkly with the dark green hat perched on his head.

"Ah, but I _choose_ to. That makes all the difference," he grinned. "Besides, as accommodating as March and Dormouse are, they don't have a lot of clothing for human boys lying around. This is only what I've been able to scrounge up from a local village." Thank heavens his parents taught him to sew; the clothing was designed for adults. Why any sane person would throw away such vibrant clothing was beyond him.

"That doesn't sound like your choice at all."

_The girl makes an interesting point._ After thinking for a moment, he countered, "It is if you believe it is." The conversation drew to a close as they stepped into a medium-sized, oblong clearing in the trees. Aside from some bread-and-butter-flies and themselves, it was empty. "This looks like a good spot. Now, what say we get you home?" He started towards the center of the clearing, hat carrier in hand.

Trailing behind him, Alice asked, "Why are you doing this?"

Smiling, he replied, "Do I need a reason to help a pretty girl lost in the woods?"

"I suppose not. How can I ever repay you?"

He paused, the smile quickly dropping from his face. Turning to her, he spoke. "Promise me one thing. Never return to Wonderland. _Ever_."

"Alright." She hadn't any intentions to, and even if she did, she wouldn't know how to come back in the first place. "But at least tell me why."

Sighing exasperatedly, Jefferson strolled seemingly without purpose in the general direction of the center, and Alice trailed closely behind. "A long time ago," he began softly, "my father was milliner to the Red Queen. He, my mother, and I lived in her castle until a few years ago."

"What happened a few years ago?"

"The Queen accused my father of espionage and high treason, and had him executed. Didn't even give him a trial, just 'off with his head'. My mother and I tried to escape, fearing we were next. Her guards caught us, and she saw our escape attempt as proof of our guilt. She had my mother killed, but the executioner took pity on me. Let me go. So I took my father's hat, and my mother's handkerchief," he added, caressing the small square of fabric between his fingers, "and I ran. I escaped into the Tulgey Wood, wandered aimlessly for what felt like weeks. Probably wasn't more than a few days, though."

"Because that's how the Tulgey Wood works."

He managed a small smile, glad that she learned at least one thing from this misadventure. "Exactly."

Smiling back, she gently nudged his arm. "So does this story have a happy ending?"

"I happened upon a clearing in the middle of the wood." Smiling more genuinely, he shrugged his shoulders. "I encountered a hare and a mouse having tea. I told them what happened, and they took me in. I've been there ever since."

Alice stopped abruptly, looking at him with wide eyes. "It's you, then," she practically whispered. "You're the child the Queen is looking for. That's why you're helping me. You think it's your fault I'm here."

Jefferson sighed deeply, looking at her with eyes that held too much sorrow for a boy so young. "I don't think, I know. I don't want you to share my fate," he pleaded. "I don't want you to lose your family. Promise me, Alice. Promise me you'll never come back."

Wanting to clear that sadness from his countenance, she straightened herself up and placed her right hand over her heart and raised the other in the air. "I, Alice King," she promised in her most serious voice, "do solemnly swear never to return to Wonderland, so long as I live."

To her delight, the sorrow vanished from his eyes and he even laughed a little. "Thank you," he smiled. They had reached the center of the clearing and he cleared his throat. "Now, as soon as I activate the portal, simply think of your destination and jump through. You should arrive in the exact spot you left from."

"And how will I know this all wasn't just a dream?"

The boy's face screwed up in thought for a moment and he hummed. Suddenly his face brightened and he snapped his fingers. "I could give you my shoe!"

Alice laughed, "What would I do with a boy's stinky shoe?"

Shrugging, Jefferson said with a smile, "Nothing, I suppose."

"Will you come and visit me?"

His smile faded. "I don't think I can."

"Why not?"

"I have something important to do here, and I don't know when it will be." He sank into thought for a moment, then cleared his throat and smirked. "Are you ready?"

Nodding, Alice smiled nervously. "I think so."

Jefferson plucked the hat from his head and placed it on the ground. Kneeling next to it, he sighed shakily. "Here goes." He gave the hat a spin, then took several steps back, bringing Alice with him. To her complete and utter astonishment, a deep purple cloud of smoke began to gather in a spiral above the still-spinning hat. Soon enough, there was a roaring, swirling vortex of purple and green where the hat was moments ago. Jefferson turned to her and spoke into her ear so he could be heard. "Goodbye, dear Alice. Don't forget me." He pulled back and raised her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

A light pink blush stained her cheeks and she smiled widely, throwing her arms around his neck. "Never, Jefferson." She removed her arms and took a few steps towards the portal, stopping just at the edge. The wind whipping her blonde hair around her head, he saw her take a deep breath before jumping into the portal. It closed a moment later, leaving only a patch of dirt where there once was grass and a small divot in the ground.

Jefferson stared after her for a while longer, then picked up his hat and flipped it onto his head. It was a trick his father taught him long ago. That and how to use the hat, of course. As he turned to leave, he noticed a spot of color in the dirt stirred up by the portal. He picked it up and blew off the excess dust to reveal the girl's flower crown. It must have flown off her head when she jumped. Crossing to the hat carrier, he opened it and gently placed the crown in the bottom of it. He didn't know why he didn't think to use this as her proof of reality. Sighing, he realized it was too late now, so there wasn't any use dwelling on it. Perhaps when his job was done, he could travel to her colorless world and return it.

_Alice_, he thought with a smile. _What a peculiar girl_.

Snapping the lid shut and standing up, Jefferson began the journey back to his own home, lightly humming an absent-minded tune about cabbages and kings.

* * *

Carol hummed lightly as she flitted around her small kitchen. She wasn't really sure what she was humming, but it was catchy. Due in part to the fact that she had spent so long underground (literally), she had _no_ idea what was popular now, music-wise. She had tuned her car radio to an "indie" station, whatever that meant, and now she was humming the chorus of some song she didn't know while she finished up the tea. Ruby was due to arrive soon, and she was going to fill Carol in on exactly what she missed and she was going to tell Ruby all about her new job. So Ruby would bring food and Carol would provide drinks and they'd gossip like old ladies until it was time for them to get some sleep so they wouldn't be zombies at work the next day. She couldn't wait. She arranged the cups and silverware on a tray and carefully carried it into the living room, placing it on the coffee table and sitting down on the couch. Before she could take a breath, three sharp knocks at the door had her springing back up with a grin on her face. When she opened the door, though, the smile abruptly dropped from her face when it wasn't Ruby.

"Hello, mother."

* * *

**Oh boy, conflict! I love me some conflict.**

**Song is "The Only Exception" by Paramore.**

**Reviews for my poor, sickly, soul this holiday season? *cough cough***


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Rome might not have been built in a day, but this chapter was and it wasn't easy work, my friends. Furthermore, I would like to apologize to France. I based it off Fleur Delacoeur from the Harry Potter books. It's nothing personal, I swear. You'll see what I mean.**

**I would also like to apologize to all of you for being late with this chapter.**

* * *

_Chapter 5_

_"I'm gonna empty your pockets and fill you with misery, yes I will_

_I want caviar for breakfast, champagne every night,_

_I want a midnight snack for every man that I invite_

_I'm an evil gal, don't you mess around with me"_

/-*-*-*-\

"Hello, mother."

"Carol." Louisa Parker smiled in a way that almost didn't reach her eyes, and it stretched her wrinkled face like a vinyl Halloween mask. She addressed her daughter in a lukewarm tone tinged with traces of her English heritage and slightly raspy from decades of smoking. "How are you, duck?" She attempted to embrace Carol, but was stopped by the younger woman's outstretched hand.

"What are you doing here?"

Down but not out, Louisa clasped Carol's hand between her own. "I heard you just got out of the hospital."

Attempting to slip her hand out from her mother's cage of hands, Carol waited for a follow-up. When she didn't get one, she prompted, "From?"

"This is a small town, darling," she answered, releasing her daughter's hand. "I heard it from everyone."

_Honestly, didn't people have something more interesting to talk about?_ "Wonderful," she drawled, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Well?" The older woman asked expectantly. Her daughter just stared at her. Louisa sighed. "Aren't you going to invite me in? Or am I just going to stand out here on your stoop like one of those Jehovah Witnesses?"

Carol rolled her eyes. _Like a vampire._ "Won't you come in?" she asked with obviously mock cheer in her voice, opening the door further to allow her mother.

"Don't mind if I do," she smiled, just as mocking. Walking past her, Louisa left the smell of expensive perfume, hairspray, and tobacco in her wake. "Not too particular about your surroundings, I see."

The younger woman shut the door and sighed. _And so it begins_. "Did you just come here to insult me or is there something you want?"

"Couldn't this just be a social call with my only child who's not halfway across the world?" Mrs. Parker dug a cigarette and lighter out of her purse and placed the former between her painted lips. "Who, I might add, I haven't seen in _such_ a long time?"

"How long has it been, anyways?"

She thought for a moment, then brushed it off. "I suppose I've lost track. Anyways, it's been much too long, and I craved family." She lit her cigarette and took a long drag, breathing it out.

"I'm sure you have. That's why you visited me in the hospital all the time. Called me every day. Came to pick me up when I was released. Oh, wait," Carol laughed sharply, plucking the cigarette from her fingers. "You _didn't_." She snuffed out the cancerous stick of tobacco and threw it away. "Don't stink up the place, I'm expecting company."

"That's right, I forgot. 'Smoking is disgusting. You'll thank me for stopping you.' Hospitals are unbecoming of someone of my status."

"Louisa," Carol said coldly, "this is Storybrooke, Maine. What status?"

"I _do_ have friends, believe it or not. What if they saw me there? Surely you can't expect me to go advertising that my daughter is a basket case," she laughed.

"Of course not. That would be ridiculous. Why don't we skip to the part where you tell me what you want this time?"

Louisa's smile faded, but she complied. "I met this absolutely _lovely_ man the other day at the store."

"I don't want to hear about your sex life." _Again._

"I'm not talking about my sex life. I'm talking about _yours_."

Carol froze and glared daggers at her mother, sitting innocently on the couch. "What did you do?"

"If I can't smoke, could I kindly have some wine?"

"Did you set me up on a _date_?"

"He's just _perfect_ for you," Mrs. Parker gushed, standing. "He's handsome, charming, _and_ he's a doctor."

"Oh, god. _Please_ tell me you didn't set me up with Dr. Whale."

"Oh, good, so you know him?"

"Yeah, I know him. He oversaw my treatment. Did a pretty shitty job, too."

"Language," her mother reprimanded half-heartedly. "I'm sure it wasn't _that_ bad."

"He declared me sane and then held me past my release date. If that doesn't qualify as _shitty_," she emphasized, "I don't know what does."

Louisa shrugged. "So he's questionable as a doctor. He seems like a very nice man."

"I'm not going out with him," Carol snapped, bristling. "It's immoral."

"When it comes to dating, morals are irrelevant." Louisa strolled over to her daughter. "I already made reservations."

"Cancel them."

"I told him you would go."

"Tell him I'm not interested."

"I told him you were thrilled," her mother smiled acidly.

"Then tell him I'm sick. Tell him I'm on my period. Tell him I'm fucking married for all I care. I'm not going and you can't make me," Carol roared. "I'm a grown-ass woman and I can make my own decisions."

Both were silent for some time, and Carol's words echoed in the tense atmosphere. Louisa shifted her weight awkwardly and crossed her arms in front of her chest, pouting."This is awfully rude of you. I thought you would at least appreciate the effort I put into trying to make you happy. But I guess I was wrong."

Carol shot her mother a look. "Don't start."

"What are you talking about?"

"You _always_ do this. You do one insignificant thing to 'try to make me happy' and it ends up failing miserably. Then when I try to stop it from happening again, you guilt me into going through with another one of your ridiculous plans."

"So, you'll go?" Louisa smiled hopefully.

After another tense silence, Carol said, "I think you should leave now, Mom."

"You need to get back on the horse, Carol," her mother groaned. "This town is full of successful men. And you really are a beautiful young woman." Louisa placed a hand on her daughter's cheek, and she let her. "I raised you well."

The younger Parker stepped out of the semi-embrace and ignored the almost-compliment, walking to the door. "Goodbye, Louisa."

Giving up for now, Mrs. Parker followed her daughter to the door. "The reservation is tomorrow at eight at that little Italian place on Oak Street."

"Use it yourself, if you're so crazy about the guy," Carol retorted snidely, opening the door.

"Maybe I will," she winked.

Carol slammed her eyes shut, trying to banish the mental image of her mother on a date with someone she had set up her daughter with."_Bye_, Mom."

"Goodbye, dear. Think about it." Louisa strolled out the door triumphantly, nearly running over Ruby, who narrowly side-stepped the older woman.

"Hey, sorry I'm late! My shift ran over, but I have food," she smiled, holding up the doggy bag in her hand. Carol could only smirk meekly in response. "Who was that?"

"You don't want to know," groaned Carol, showing Ruby in and closing the door behind her.

The brunette grimaced, waving her hand in front of her nose. "Ugh, it smells like smoke," she coughed. "I thought you quit?"

_Yes_, she used to smoke. Like a chimney. During her Rabbit Hole days, it made her alluring and risky. But the mental ward wasn't exactly smoker-friendly, so she kinda had to kick the habit. Which really was better for her in the long run, but _god_ was it hard. "I did," she replied tersely, opening a window. "But it's people like her that make me want to pick it back up."

* * *

"William King, will you please put that out or kindly take it outside? You know how I detest tobacco."

The young man nodded and put out his pipe. "Yes, mother."

Cecily nodded in thanks before directing her attention back to her son's wife. "So, tell me Clara, what is Lyons like this time of year?"

The young woman smiled warmly. "It eez ze most beautiful city in ze world," she answered in a thick French accent. "Especially when eet snows."

"How wonderful," the older woman smiled. Her son had been married to Clara for several months now, so she had gotten a little better at deciphering what the dear girl was saying. "We usually get snow around this time, as well. I wonder how Alice can stand to be outside now, it's so cold."

"I had a riding lesson, mother." The three people in the living room turned and saw Alice walking in through the front doors. For just having turned eighteen a few weeks ago, she looked years older. Dressed in a jacket and trousers and her blonde hair plaited down her back, she continued into the room. "It isn't _that_ cold yet. I found it refreshing after such a long spell of sweltering heat." William stood as she approached and she embraced him. "It's nice to see you again, Will. And you as well, Clara. How is Alfred?"

"He eez at 'ome with ze nanny. And getting so big!"

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Alice," Cecily stated, "please go upstairs and change into something suitable for company."

"Who are we expecting?"

"Sir Edward Blake. He has expressed a desire to come and see you."

Alice snidely thought that wasn't all he had a _desire_ for. "Do you mean he wishes to marry me?"

Cecily stiffened and regarded her daughter with cool eyes. "He might," she responded calmly. "You _are_ of age, and Sir Edward is a very wealthy man and a war veteran with an excellent standing in the community."

"I am aware of that mother," said Alice, trying and failing to keep her temper under control. "I am also aware that _Sir Edward_ is forty years old and a ferocious drunk. He's a lecher, and- "

"_And_," Mrs. King interrupted, "he will be here soon, so I suggest you go up and change."

"But mother-!"

"_Now_, Alice."

The eighteen year old took a deep breath and turned to her brother on the couch, who was looking anywhere but her, it seemed. Alice turned abruptly and ran towards the stairs, taking them two at a time. She sped down the hall and slammed her bedroom door shut behind her, not caring how childish she was being. Snatching up one of her bed pillows, she screamed into it and then began attacking one of her bedposts with it, dealing blow after useless blow to the wood. A knock on the door halted her barrage. "Alice?" said her brother. "Are you clothed?"

She threw the pillow back onto the bed and wrenched the door open. "Go away, William."

"Oh, we're back to William now, are we?" he teased. "What did _I_ do?"

"You just sat there like a pile of dung and didn't say a thing."

"What could I have said that you didn't already say?"

"You might have mentioned that he impregnated one of his maids and had her discharged when she claimed the child was his."

Will tilted his head down at her. "That was just a rumor and you know it."

Crossing her arms, she snapped, "But would it really be so out of character for him?"

"I suppose not," he chuckled.

"She knows his reputation, real and rumored, and she is still going to allow him to pursue me. How could she _do_ such a thing? How can she take the side of an oaf like _him_ over her own daughter?"

"You know as well as I do that Cecily loves you," Will said seriously. "You two don't always see eye to eye, but she wants what's best for you."

"And that disgusting drunk Blake is what's best for me?" seethed Alice.

"No one is saying you _have_ to marry him. All you have to do is meet him and be your wonderful, _charming_ self," he said, a teasing glimmer in his eye. "After all, this is the first time he's meeting you, and you want to leave a _good_ first impression. Do you understand?"

A wide, conspiratorial grin graced her features "Yes, I believe I do. But what of mother?"

"I'll handle mother. Just do what you must to frighten him off. Though I must warn you, you'll have to try especially hard."

"And why is that?"

"Because you're a beautiful, intelligent, witty young woman, and any man would be very lucky indeed to have you as his wife," Will smiled, making his sister playfully hit his arm.

"Will it always be this way? Intentionally frightening off forty-year old drunkards who want to bed me?"

"No," he sighed. "Not all men are pigs like Sir Edward. One of these days you'll find someone who makes you feel the way I feel about Clara, and the way Margaret feels about Christian." Their sister was indeed very happy with her husband. Christian was an arranged marriage, but Margaret had gotten lucky with him.

"How _do_ you feel about Clara?"

Will smiled shyly, and he fiddled with his wedding ring. "She's the sun and stars to me. Every morning I wake up and see her face and feel blessed to be loved by such an extraordinary woman." He looked at Alice then, and she could see the amount of love he had for the woman written all over his face. "I love her with all of my heart, and I only wish that someday you find the same thing, aristocracy be damned."

Alice gasped mockingly. "Bite your tongue! Damn the aristocracy? What would mother say?"

"You let me worry about that," he smiled. "I'll let you get changed now." He walked off down the hall and she closed the door.

She wandered over to her window and opened it, letting the cool breeze blow through her hair, which she promptly undid from its braid. If she was going to meet _Sir Edward_, she might as well make herself presentable. Turning and sitting down at her vanity, she brushed her hair, allowing her mind to wander. She thought of Wonderland, which she did often, and the book she was reading, a collection of Persian poetry that would make her mother blush. Setting the brush back on the vanity, she looked at herself in the looking-glass. _You're an adult, Alice. This is your life now._ The feeling of utter dread in her breast only grew. She sighed and closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she was shocked at what she saw. Reflected in the mirror, she could see a flower crown on her windowsill. That in itself was odd enough, but what made her take pause was that it was in full color.

Turning from the mirror to go pick it up, she saw it was gone, with no evidence of it ever having been there. Now she was _really_ confused. She thought that maybe it was a trick of the light, or even that the wind had blown it back out the window, even though she didn't feel any wind. As she was considering whether the wind could have come in and turned right around without her feeling it, she turned to face her mirror again. When she did, she nearly fell out of her seat in shock.

The flower crown was back, sitting on the windowsill, exactly where it was before.

She whirled around to look again, and it was gone. But when she looked at the window's reflection, it was there, undisturbed. Deeply confused, she could only stare at the spot of color in her mirror with her mouth hanging open in a very unladylike way. The only rational explanation she could think of was that there was a stain of some sort on her mirror. Anything else would just be... make-believe.

_Does this place seem make-believe to you?_

That in mind, Alice considered her second explanation. The color was _inside_ the mirror.

Tentatively, she stood up and reached out to touch the looking-glass. Her reflection rippled like silvery water underneath her touch and she retracted her hand. Curiosity got the better of her, though, and she plunged her entire hand into the mirror. It felt like she was putting her hand into cold water then exposing it to the open air, leaving a chilled feeling on her skin.

As she was standing, amazed, with her hand in the mirror, she heard her mother calling from downstairs that Sir Edward had arrived. Sighing, she thought that her exploration of the looking-glass would have to wait until that evening. She mentally decided which dress she would change into, taking into account which one would take the longest to put on. As she thought, she began pulling her hand out of the mirror, shivering at the feeling.

She hadn't moved her hand more than a few centimeters when something grabbed it and pulled her through the looking-glass before she even had the chance to scream.

* * *

**I ****_hate_**** the name Cecily. If you're reading this, and your name is Cecily, I'm sorry for two reasons:**

**1. I unintentionally named one of the centers of conflict after you.**

**2. Your name is ****_Cecily_****, you poor thing.**

**Song is "Evil Gal Blues" by Aretha Franklin because why not?**

**(PS, If anyone can tell me the DC Comics reference hidden in this chapter, I'll love you forever)**


End file.
